


Present

by happyhaunts



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: A little angst, Asra is Held Responsible for His Own Actions, F/M, Light Existential Crisis, Post Main Storyline, a slightly in-charge type Muriel, as a treat, fertility talk, it’s p vanilla tho, just so y’all know, porn with plot in some places, the first couple chapters are H O R N Y, will likely edit as new books are released
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23194297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyhaunts/pseuds/happyhaunts
Summary: The Apprentice struggles to readjust without distractions of the life and death variety. It’s hard to feel present when you can’t escape your past.Quick Note: I’ve decided to put this on hold until Muriel’s route wraps up, so just enjoy the smut for now.
Relationships: Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 72





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got a commission for a dirty one shot with Muriel, but I also had a fic idea I thought it would work well with, and now I have the time, so here we are. 
> 
> Female apprentice, no name used. 
> 
> I might make small changes as new chapters get released, but let’s say this takes place like 6-ish months after everything wraps up - assuming an upright ending.

"It's too precarious - I will not jeopardize this." Asra's final words ring in my head, sounding stern as any well-meaning father might. There was so much more I wanted to say, but I didn’t get the chance. Asra never allows me the last line. 

"Wasn't too precarious when you wanted it." I mutter to myself, ignoring the passerby on the bridge giving me odd looks. Take that.

At first I had been heading to Portia - she always knows how to get me to lighten up - but I’m a little too agitated to plead for her company just yet. After a pause at the gate, I take a sharp right. I want fresh air, and space. To be a little out of the way for Asra when he realizes I didn’t dutifully wait for him to come home, calmed and ready to finish our talk. The guards give me a casual nod as I head out of the city. 

It’s nearing dusk, and fog is beginning to set in, creeping slowly over tall grass and gnarled roots. Despite it being as creepy a setting as ever, it’s comfortable. I can let my mind go here, my lungs take in the heavy air, scents of soil and moss and pine ground me, I hear the nightlife beginning to stir in their dens. It’s wonderful. I realize I'm not pacing in circles along the edge anymore, but on the path, and it's not long before I smell fire in a hearth and the distant clucking of chickens. Even when I'm not thinking clearly, I know where I want to be.

I knock on the door, hearing Inanna's scratches on the other side in an attempt to let me in. The door swings open, and I see Muriel's face - annoyed, surprised, pleased...panicked. I haven't been to his hut in a while, and I don’t think I’ve been here alone since our “first” meeting. He’s a regular fixture in our rebuilding community, and when he’s not helping out, he’s at the shop, and often waits until I’m asleep to leave. There’s no turning me away when I’m already here, though, and he wordlessly gestures for me to come inside, Inanna coming up behind me to nudge me further into their home. I sit down on the bench, roughing up her fur and giving her quick kiss on her wet nose, earning me a happy little whine. Muriel smiles, it's genuine, and takes a seat on the other side of the bench. He might as well be standing next to door, bracing to take off in a sprint. 

"I was going to visit you in the morning." He tells me.

Of course. "Well...why put of tomorrow what you can do today, right?" My voice is a little more sarcastic than it needs to sound, but despite all that ethereal traipsing through the forest, I'm still heated about my argument with Asra.

He grunts, shifting in his seat. "What's the hurry?"

"I just wanted to..." I bite my tongue, not wanting to sound as angry as I feel, or delve into my problems so quickly, "talk."

It does not convince him in the slightest. Now he looks nervous. 

"Asra's just...not good for talking to about some things right now." Quite the understatement that was. 

"About what?"

"I've just been thinking about...everything I'll never get back." So much for holding back.

Muriel isn't equipped for a conversation like this, and it shows, but I want him to listen more than talk anyway.

"It's just that...I appreciate knowing what happened to me - it explains so much, it fills so many gaps, but...I hate that I can never know more than that." 

I can tell he's struggling a little to deal with all that I'm throwing at him. "What does Asra say?" His first words are quite possibly the last ones I wanted to hear. 

Gritting my teeth, I fight the urge to simply say "who cares what he thinks?".

"He thinks it’s ‘risky’, and that I'll undo everything, again, but he isn’t listening.” And Muriel was, even if he could barely keep up. “I don’t actually mind that I’m this person now, I like the life I’m making for myself, that’s not the issue. I don’t even really care much about the memories - they’re gone, I’m over it - but I can’t go on here only knowing that once upon a time I had a life with Asra, I got sick, and then I died. That can not be all I get to know.”

I’m standing up now, pacing around like a madwoman, Murial’s eyes following me back and forth with a wariness.

“Then I had a thought. What if he told me in the context..." Damn, I was so worked up I was losing track of where this sentence was going. "Okay, no, wait, wait...I wanted him, to tell tell me about me, but like it's someone else."

"Someone...else." He says slowly, skeptically.

"Like, not 'you used to do this',” I explain, “ - instead, something like 'Victoria loved roses'."

"You don't like roses."

"Yeah, I don't like roses, but did Victoria?" I lean over a little, making a hinting gesture with my hands. 

"Victoria...is you?" He says slowly.

"Victoria is the original me. Pre-death me."

It clicks. “Oh."

I straitened myself out. “But his answer was no. And then I asked him if I mattered as my own person or if I only mattered as someone who used to mean something to him, and he just said ‘I won’t allow it!’ and did his little ‘swish swish’ with his cloak and his hat said he would leave me alone to cool down.”

Muriel eyes are wide with concern. “It this...you cooling down?” 

“Yes!” I snapped, instantly regretting it. Folding my hands in front of my face, I take a breath. “Sorry. I was supposed to go smash expensive, old palace plates with Portia, but I think I thought you would have a little better grip on the concept of having a past self to constantly compare to.”

He diverts his gaze to Inanna, like maybe she’ll direct us to some emergency to get him out of this, and sighs. “You really want to know about... ‘Victoria’?”

I scramble back across the hut, planting myself back on the bench. “If I start to feel weird, we won't talk about it anymore." I promise him. “I think it’s going to work though. Asra is just too...single-minded.” Asra makes it seem like he’s had to erase my mind anytime I was presented with something from my past, but that couldn’t be true. I was, presumably, living under the same general conditions as I had before he left and I died: living in the same house, with the same person, in the same city, using the same name. Eating the same pumpkin bread, saying hello to the same neighbors. Obviously I wasn’t triggered by every little thing with a tie to my past. Hell, I’m walking around fine with the knowledge that I had a whole other existence. If that wasn’t proof that I could handle more, I’m not sure what would be.

Muriel snorts, taking his time thinking, long enough for Inanna to get bored of our attention and curl up to sleep on the other side of the hut. "Victoria was...loud." He struggles a bit for the specific non-specifics I'm searching for, brow furrowed in concentration. "She rarely let a person pass her by without starting up a conversation, and no one ever minded it. There was a lavender shawl she wore a lot, with gold threads, and she had an accent. Not local.”

The decriptions are sparse, but I am enraptured nonetheless. I know that shawl - it's draped above my bed. An unusual accent? Am I a foreigner? I had never considered that before. 

"She and Asra did a lot more experiements back then, and she wrote everything about them down. Lot of...numbers and symbols I didn't understand. I noticed you....she," he corrects, "doesn't really tinker around like that anymore."

Old me sounded friendlier, smarter, more meticulous and probably much more interesting. Going through the trouble to bring me back, only to be granted a hollow, physical shell of a person, must have been a great disappointment.

But I'm not in the mood to feel bad for Asra right now.

"She has a thing about being called beautiful. Hated it for whatever reason, even though you are." Red spreads across Muriel's face, all the way down to the tops of his shoulders. "Sorry, I messed up again.”

"It's okay.” I reassure him - this way was still working. "Were you friends? Did you... like her?"

"We knew each other, not sure I would call us friends." He shrugged, scratching at his stubbled cheek. "It wouldn't have mattered much if I felt anything for her. She and Asra were two halves of a whole." 

It was hard to imagine myself with him the way I hoped Muriel and I would continue be. "Were they actually together?"

"In a way. I never saw them...kissing...or anything like that, but she was just..." he made a vague gesture in my direction, "his."

It was silent for a few moments, then Muriel shook his head, looking serious now. "Asra thought everything would fall into place and be easy, like it always had been with her. He never planned for her to come back different, never considered there might be other consequences. It took him a long time to accept.”

"When did you know...her re-existence could be something else for you, too?"

"At first I thought I liked her more because she was quieter, but... I don't know. It wasn't that." Like many aspects of this situation, the only way to explain it was that things were just different. 

"Why didn't you ever give her the myrrh?" At this point, we were technically talking about new me, but I suppose technically there have been a lot of new me’s.

Muriel gives me a look, but doesnt answer. I'm sure it's because of Asra, and his sacrifice. He just told me it had taken Asra a while to accept that I wouldn't be the same, and how much crueler would it be to realize before you were ready, that someone you loved might be meant for someone else now?

"Why did you give me the myrrh?" I ask softly.

"You helped Inanna...and me. Plus, you looked scared. I hated it." He reverts his stare down to the floor.

"But you didn't take it back."

"I was going to. I should have...but I was selfish." His voice became something of a grumble, losing the desire to speak out loud. "I let myself get too involved, and if I took away all the myrrh, there was a chance you would forget something important."

I stand up strait, and step over to him. Muriel's hands are clasped between his knees, and he fights to keep staring at the floor even as I take his face in my hands. The kiss suprises him, but he still leans into it, into me, and relaxes. 

When I break away, I touch my forehead to his, so he cannot avoid me again. "You are the most important thing I could ever forget." 

His eyes are shining, and he kisses me again, strong arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me close against him. Fabric bunches around my hips when I climb into his lap. Muriel cranes his head down to keep our lips from losing contact, still holding me securely.

I love him, so much.

"I don't want this to stop." I say breathlessly, not wanting to work myself up just to land myself in a different, serious talk. Muriel knows by now that he is deserving of happiness, and comforts, and me, but something is always stopping him anyway. The tips of my ears are burning, and I expect him to turn twelve shades red. To get flustered and practically fling me off of him like he always does when I try something bold. We’ve been on the precipice of this moment so many times, and still we are right here, again. I don’t know what makes me think this time might be different, but Muriel isn’t moving, isn’t speaking. He gives me a searching look through half-lidded eyes, and then his mouth is back on mine, with something behind it I've never felt from him before. The shift in his vibrations makes my spine tingle and stomach flutter. I want this. I want him more than anything. Together we peel off my robes, and I feel his hands on my bare waist, fingers sliding up and under the hem of my top. They move up my back, the straps are sliding off my shoulders as he holds me steady while his lips trace over my jaw and throat. The trail of kisses stops at my collarbone, where he decides my top should depart as well. I know he’s seen me at least this naked before: in looks he stole while we were on the road, in the bath at the palace, all those times we got far only to find it was a line we couldn’t yet cross.

They don't exactly fill his hands, but he's content all the same to be caressing them, never any less marveled at how soft they are against his callouses. My arms drop down to unfasten the pins holding up my skirt, the fabric sliding over our legs and onto the floor. Now it's just me in my cotton shorts. Hands move down my sides and grip my hips. I feel the low, happy noise he makes in the back of his throat when I lean in for another kiss, pressing my body flush against him. My hands dip down to tug suggestively at his belt. There's another moment of hesitance, but he obliges me. With the layer of furs gone, I can very clearly feel his excitement through his pants.

The world shifts when he stands up, holding me up by the backs of my thighs.

"Do I weigh anything to you?" I tease.

He indulges me with a small smile, and jokes back. "Not really. It's like holding a couple grapes."

I let out something that resembles a laugh, but I'm so nervous it just sounds awkward. Muriel sets me down gently on the furs covering his bed, straitening back up to kick off his boots. I feel stuck to the spot when I see Muriel start to undo the laces on his pants, but he stops suddenly, clearing the hut in a few steps and returning to offer me a satchel.

"You're breathing really hard." He tells me, sitting on the edge of the bed, as far from me as he can be while still sharing it.

"I am?" I bring the satchel up to my face. The smell of vanilla and ocean air fill my lungs, I feel my jaw unclench and my shoulders drop.

Looking down, I mumble a thank you. 

"We don't have to do anything." His voice is more soothing than his charm. It's almost like we've switched roles, and I can't help but smile a little at that. After everything, I’m the one clamming up in the final moment.

"I want to.”

It’s all the encouragement that is needed. He leans into me for another kiss, pushing me into the bed. Only when I'm on my back does he finally slide my shorts off, and now I'm naked, in his bed, and he looks determined. He nudges my legs apart with his knee, and places a hand on my belly. Nerves alight, his palm is searing against my skin, every callous and scar imprinting itself on me. It moves down slowly, cupping me between my legs. A finger slides up and down my entrance tentatively, and then slips in. 

I instinctively reach out for him, clutching onto the straps that cross his back. Maybe he's putting magic into his hand, I don't know. It's hard to think with his thumb swirling around like that, my hips bucking into his palm when he adds another finger. My knuckles are white from gripping the straps so tightly, but I don't loosen that grip. My body is winding up towards something, and it’s telling me I need to hold the tension. 

The release comes quick and spreads to every inch of my body, electrifying and warm, my walls pulsate around his fingers. It takes a lot out of me, and I fall back on the bed, Muriel looking down at me with amazement, and...hunger. Sitting up on his heels, finally undoes the laces on his pants, cock literally bouncing free when he pushes them down his hips. It looks closer to my forearm than the penis in my anatomy book. I practically smack myself in the face so I can take another sniff of the calming satchel, but it's no where near effective as before - my heart is beating too fast, I cant take a deep enough breath. There's no time to recover. In an instant, his arms loop around my knees and I feel it pressing into me. The sensation makes me squirm and gasp, it's so much thicker than a finger, or two. I clasp my hands over my mouth to keep myself from making any noise that makes him think I'm in pain.

Everything stops, and I notice there's a strange expression on his face.

"Is it...?" I asked through my laced fingers. 

"No." His reply comes out sounding curt and strangled. "It's...really tight."

"Oh." The pressure is very uncomfortable, I shift my hips around a little in hopes to relieve it, causing the breath to hitch in his throat. Suddenly he lurches to cover my body with his, planting his hands on the bed. My legs are up in the air and his hips snap forward. I'm able to suppress an ungodly, surprised noise that certainly would have terrified him and any wildlife nearby.

Muriel stills for a moment, to let out a shakey breath. "There." 

I look down, curious, and can see that he's fully sheathed inside me. "Uh-huh." I say, already feeling weak. His hips start to move, just a sway. The charm I still have smashed up against my face begins to work a little, now that my heart isn't pumping a million times a second. The more I relax, the tougher the pace seems to get, but more steady, too, as Muriel's confidence in what we're doing builds. Our magic pools together in the pit of my stomach, ebbing and flowing like waves as he slides in and out of me. I want to ask him if he feels it too, but I'm too overwhelmed to speak. Every one of my senses feels raw. I am a string being pulled at both ends, to the point of undoing.

With my knees are practically touching my shoulders. Muriel's movements become hard, deep, and unrelenting. The satchel isn't helping much anymore, and I let it slide onto the bed. A muffled cry escapes from me as I do so, and I freeze, expecting it to throw everything into pause, but he keeps going, pressing a kiss on my forehead, breathing me in. He's too close to stop, and I can't hold back anymore. I finally cling to him, a gasping, whimpering mess, as he frantically slams into me. Muriel lets out a sound almost like a growl, vibrating in his chest, and his hips slow down to a stop. Both of us are breathing heavily, his skin almost slick with sweat. He pushes himself back up on his haunches, looking down at me. 

"You're so beautiful." He murmers almost too quietly for me to hear, pulling his softening cock out of me before climbing out of the bed. For a moment he is unsteady on his feet, but he isn't on them for long, quickly settling back next me. A clean rag is pressed between my thighs. It aches almost painfully there, and I gasp a little.

"Did I hurt you?"

"It's just sore." My whole body aches. I didn't expect my to get contorted around like that. There were a lot of things I hadn't expected from the experience. "Are you happy?" My eyes are wide and my voice is small, Muriel looks absolutely dumbfounded by it, scooping me up in his arms. 

"More than...I thought I could be." I hear the struggle in his voice, as he fights the urge to say this isn't what he deserves and beats it down. He's good enough for this, he always has been.

We wrap ourselves in soft fur blankets, his body curled up protectively around me.

For the first time in a while, I don’t have to think about whether this was something the old me would have done or wanted - it's what I want. 

I’m ready to live in the present.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gets a little less sexual after this chapter. I just like the idea of horny, “once you pop you just can’t stop” Muriel.

The hut is empty when I awake. If we were in the shop, I would have been disappointed, but there isn’t much to doubt, read into, or be offended by when this is his home. 

I get out of bed, shuffling around in search of my clothes. From a pile by the table, I pull out my robe, giving it a good shake before shrugging it on. I’ll come back later for the rest. Or maybe I won’t, we’ll see where the day takes us. 

A clicking noise fills the otherwise quiet clearing. I follow it around the side of the hut before I fully recognize what it is, and by that time I’m practically witnessing the source. Muriel, standing in front of a stump, chopping wood. There’s already enough logs to last a whole winter in the mountains piled up against the back of the hut. He must have been at this for a while. I should say “good morning”, but instead I take a moment to appreciate the muscles in his back contract and release with every swing. He seems...distracted, and it takes a long time for him to notice me.

Once he’s done looking startled, he speaks up. 

“How long were you there?” Muriel’s hands fall to his side, and even though he wasn’t doing anything particularly violent or wrong, he still seems guilty to be holding something dangerous in my presence. 

“Not too long.” I shrugged, my robe slipping down my shoulder a bit. Muriel fixates on the exposed skin for a moment, realizing it’s the only thing I’m wearing. “How long have you been awake?” 

Muriel just sort of grunts, like he does. 

“You never went to sleep?” Our first act completely knocked me out for the night when it wasn’t even close to my usual time for bed. I assumed it wore him out too. “Why not?”

His mouth goes dry, muttering something I can’t hear. 

“What?” I step a little closer, until we’re not more than a step apart. 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” He says, a little more clearly.

“I told you it’s no problem to keep you company.” 

Muriel finally looks at me. “It wasn’t just for company.”

There’s a pause. “Oh.” I’m still plenty sore, but also game. “That’s okay, we can.” Both my hands reach out to grab just one of his, gently pulling him toward the hut. He drops the axe, looking a little dazed - lovestruck is probably more accurate. I don’t think he’ll ever stop wondering if this is all somehow wrong, and that he should still be alone. We can fix that, though. In time, I want him to forget what it felt like to ever be lonely. 

The door swings shut behind Muriel. I let go of his hand and walk toward the bed, but he catches up to me in a step, turning me around. He takes my face in his hands as gently as he is capable and bends down to kiss me. It seems like a very different sort of kiss, now that he knows me carnally, and is about to do so again. There’s a blush covering my features when he pulls away, a heat in my body that is still new to me. His expression by comparison is so focused, not held back by nerves or embarrassment or shame. For someone who had needed so much reassurance to enjoy the most basic pleasures, he’s being surprisingly demanding now, not hesitating even for a moment to tug the robe off my body. I can feel dirt on his hands when he runs them up my torso, hoisting me up onto the table so our height’s can be at least a little more evened out. He holds me close, kissing my neck, as I slide my hand into his pants. He holds his breath as I grasp his cock, giving it a few experimental strokes. I’ve never had the chance to get very acquainted with it before. It’s soft, and hot. There’s a little wetness on the tip that I brush away with my thumb, causing Muriel to gasp. He picks me up again, heading strait for the bed, practically throwing us both onto it. He moves between my thighs, trying to take off his clothes, kiss me, and enter me all at the same time. I pull away, placing my hand on his chest to stop him.

“I think...I’d like to be on top this time.” I wonder if my face will ever stop going red when I ask something like this of him. Especially when he’s so quick and willing. Not even bothering to pull his pants the rest of the way off, he rolls over, pulling me with him. The underside of his cock rubs against my slit, and I notice how wet I am, even though he didn’t do anything to get me ready like before. For a moment, I try to make it slip in, but it’s a little too long, and he runs out of patience. Muriel’s hands encircle my waist, lifting me up and then lowering me onto his cock, deliberately, enjoying every inch, every moment it takes to sink into me. When I push my hips forward on my own, taking that last little bit of him, he throws his head back in the mattress and moans. 

I’m on top, but no where near in control. His strong grip keeps me where he wants, his hips buck up into mine at a speed I can’t match. Each thrust hits so deep it makes the breath catch in my throat. It isn’t painful, but it does make me feel lightheaded, and I reflexively plant my hands on Muriel’s chest to steady myself. The repositioning means his cock is hitting someplace different. Someplace that feels...good. Like it did with his fingers. It’s almost work, keeping my body still, but I feel it coming. This time it’s stronger, more intense. I hear Muriel whisper something explicit before pulling me down in a kiss. The way my walls are squeezing him makes it feel like he’s going even deeper, and even after it stops, every movement gives my body an extra jolt of pleasure, an aftershock. When it’s his turn to come, he slams me down and holds me there, as if he hopes to lock our bodies together forever.

When it’s over, I fall into his chest. The hair scratches my cheek, but I don’t mind it, I’m very happily worn out. 

“Think you could sleep now?” 

“Not as long as your clothes are off.” He admits. 

“Noted.” I push myself off of him, quickly finding another piece of cloth to wipe myself up with. 

Muriel sits up and watches me walk around, collecting my clothes. 

“Are you leaving?” He seems a little confused by the suddenness of it.

“Well, yes, and no.” I tell him as I pull up my shorts. “I was thinking about getting us something to eat.”

“Oh.” That relaxes him a bit.

“But on that note...” I hesitate a little, but it is something rather important. “Do you...want me here?”

“Of course.” He answers with a clear certainty.

“Okay. But like, for how long?”

That gives him pause. He hadn’t thought about it. “I guess...at least until things are right with you and Asra.”

“And if they never are.” I say to him bluntly. 

He looks surprised. “Isn’t it...your shop? Your house?”

“It was ‘Victoria’s’ home more than mine. And now it’s Asra’s, more or less.” I suppose I didn’t give Muriel a very clear indication of how serious the differences and arguments between Asra and I had become.

“I...” Muriel’s voice trails off, still waiting for his thoughts to form words.

“None of this is what I intended when I came here, And I’m sorry.” I loved him, but it sometimes felt like I was forcing myself into his life, into situations he would never consider. “I’m not hurting for a place to stay - I have Nadia, Portia, Mazelinka, Julian - ” there’s no time to acknowledge the annoyance on his face that comes with that last example, “I just have to ask if you wanted that place to be yours.” 

He still doesn’t know what to say to me. I get it, he’s spent the last decade alone, and I’ve made it a habit of coming along and completely disrupting his entire lifestyle. “Just saying...think about it.” I pin up my skirt before slipping on my robe a final time, tying it securely. There’s no mirror, so I muss my hair a bit with my fingers until it feels about right before heading to the door. 

“But you’re coming back later, right?” Muriel calls after me. 

“Yeah. I’m getting food and stuff and coming right back.” I explain to him again, secretly pleased by his worrying. He does like that I’m around, even if I’m imposing.

He nods, reassured. “Okay.” 

“Get some sleep.” I warn, pulling the heavy fur blanket up to his chin and giving him an extremely chaste kiss on his forehead. Muriel accepts the care I’m giving him, eyes already fluttering shut. He looks so sweet, I can’t help but grant him a quick kiss on the lips, too, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile.

“I will be back.” I tell him one last time, watching him nod sleepily, and close his eyes. He’s already snoring by the time I reach the door. 

I spot a cart on the side of the hut, and decide to drag that along with me. There’s a cart I had planned to grab at the shop, but this was better - it came free with less of a chance that I might have to see Asra. It’s much older than mine, though, the loose wood planks and wheels clatter noisily on the pathway, but it’s a welcome break in the silence.

The trek to the marketplace gives me plenty of time to put a list together in my head: I know what to get and where to go for it. My first stop is for clothes. I need at least one extra outfit if I want to avoid going home, even though the thoughts of what Muriel and I could do while my only outfit is washed and hung out to dry are pretty tempting. I pass by the fruit and vegetable carts. What Muriel doesn’t already grow, the forest readily offers. I do make stops with the butcher and fishmonger.

It’s good to see life coming back to the marketplace. Every time I’m here there’s new construction, a new merchant, more wares and more people. Unfortunately, I can also spy the shop at the end of the lane. There’s a tightness in my chest, a lump in my throat. I don’t want to be angry with Asra, but I’m not ready to go back. 

The dread is broken when I hear someone calling my name, and the familiar glint of red hair bobbing through the crowd. She says it again, and I wait for her.

“Hey!” Portia finally catches up to me. 

I smile back at her. “Hey.”

“I went to the shop earlier, but Asra said you weren’t around.” She says breathlessly. “Doing some shopping?”

“Yeah,” I smile brightly at her, hoping it will convince her that things are okay in spite of whatever I tell her next, “and I wouldn’t look for me at the shop for a while.” 

Here eyes widen in surprise. “Something wrong?”

“Just need a break, is all.” I would go into detail if it weren’t for the food in the cart. 

“Where can I find you then?”

“I’ll come to you tomorrow, okay?” I assure her. “We’ll talk.”

Portia leans to the side to look at what I’ve bought, and then smirks. “Smoked eel, huh?”

It’s a fight to keep a strait face, but I think I’m managing. “Mhm.” 

“Does Asra know, about the...smoked eel?” She pushes, eyebrows waggling. Now I have to keep from laughing.

“He does not. It’s kind of...a treat just for me.“

“I see.” There’s a definite glimmer in her eyes. “My, we will have a lot to talk about when you come to call.”

“Trust me, you’ll hear all about it.” I start to move past her. “Bye, Portia!”

She calls after me, hand on her hip. “Don’t be long.” 

The cart rattles on the cobblestone lane behind me, masking my laughter. She has no idea what she’s in for.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Apprentice finally faces Asra.

There is much to do on the night of a harvest moon, and tonight’s will be the first full ritual I will perform without Asra by my side. The realization weighs heavy in me, burdened by doubt. He always said such encouraging things about my talents, words contrasted by the actions of treating me as barely capable. 

But as I’m pouring over the calendar, re-familiarizing myself with the details and the rites, a more distracting thought comes to me. Something that I hadn’t felt concerned by in a long time.

I don’t have a moons blood.

I never have, not in this life. It didn’t seem important at the time, and as far as I knew, I didn’t have a reason for needing one.

The realization ignites a new ache inside of me, coupled with mild panic - what does it mean? 

Then I see Muriel across the yard, carefully spreading around feed for the chickens, talking to them, chiding them. He was meant to have a family, a big one. Not that there’s really anything keeping us from that - we could round up every orphan in Vesuvia, and there are so many now. That would probably mean more to him than a natural child anyway. Yes, I’m sure he doesn’t care about whatever state my womb is in, and in my old life, I probably wouldn’t have cared either.

Except this isn’t my old life, and this is just another thing reminding me that my existence is something...unnatural. 

The far away look in my eyes does not go unnoticed, and I’m jolted out of my thoughts by Muriel’s hand enveloping my shoulder.

“Are you okay?” 

“Yes.” I smile up at him as best I can, and pat his hand reassuringly. “I’m just, um, putting a list together in my head and,” there’s a smidge of hesitation in my voice he can sense all too well, “I have to go to the shop.”

“Oh.” He looks worried. “Do you want me to come with?”

“No, it’s fine.” He’s been through enough of my messes, and I know he could use the alone time to recharge. We’ve been so wrapped up in each other all week, and while he hasn’t complained, I know there’s bound to be a tipping point. “Things are still pretty unfinished over there, it’ll take a while.”

Muriel nods, looking grateful that I let him off that hook. Clearing my throat a little, I stand up, smoothing out my skirt. “Hopefully not too long.” Tugging him down, I give him a kiss. His hands relocate themselves to my waist, warm and meant to hold me. 

“Hopefully.” He repeats in a throaty voice that makes my heart leap. 

Inanna wiggles her way between us, wanting in on the affection. We oblige her, laughing.

“You can always take Inanna with you. For support.” 

I smile and shake my head, giving her a good, long scratch under her jaw. “It’s just Asra, I’ll be fine.”

“Hm.” Muriel pulls his hand away from me. “You should go now if you want to be back before the moon rises.” It was still impossible for me to tell the time here through the thick canopy of branches overhead, I didn’t doubt him. 

Lingering for a moment longer, I bite my lip and give him one more smile before turning on my heels and starting down the path. “Guess I’ll be going, then.” 

The path gives way to the stone streets in a flash, And I still haven’t figured what I might say to Asra. In spite of everything, I do want to be happy to see him, to come home, but I steel myself. There was a reason I was angry, and a reason I was coming back. I spot the tower of the shop at the edge of the market, and suddenly my heart is in my throat.

The door swings open when I’m still several steps away. Oh good, I was worried there was going to be a lack of theatrics in this encounter. Asra leans casually against the doorframe, denying me entry. Does this man really think he’ll get me to ask permission to come inside? 

“How is Muriel?” He asks, smiling his dimpled smile, thinking he’s caught me off guard by knowing where I’ve been. 

“He’s fine.” I answer with a coolness I never thought I’d extend his way.

“I’m surprised he let you stay so long. He’s never co-habitated well, you know.”

I see - Asra thinks I’ve been sent home by Muriel. Such pettiness. Not the greatest look for him right now, I have to say. “Well, maybe he wasn’t getting as much out of his other co-habitants.”

If I didn’t know him so well, I might not have noticed the subtle shifts in his mood. The coldness in his eyes, the slight downturn in the corners of his lips.

Strait to the point, then.

“I want my notes.”

Asra’s smug facade dissipates, and his eyes widen, flashing with fear. “Your...what?” He tries to say, but even if his expression didn’t give him away, his voice cracks ever so slightly.

I stand firm, my own voice unwavering. “Muriel says I used to write everything down. Experiments, research, diaries - I want them back.”

He’s struggling to come up with some reason, any excuse, to keep me from them. “You don’t know what it could do. If you like your life - which you keep insisting you do - you should leave it be.”

Ducking under his arm, I enter the shop. “The way I see it, if I wasn’t capable of processing things I learned before, you wouldn’t have taught me magic. Doesn’t that count as ‘risky’? Teaching me my old profession?”

“I could not bear to strip you of everything you were.” He counters. 

“What do you think I’ll find, then? What could be more shocking than that which I already know?”

Asra tears his gaze from mine, taking a long while to think. “You can have the research, not the diaries.” He says with a tone of authoritarian finality.

It’s not what I wanted, but I can live with that compromise. “Deal.”

He sighs deeply, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, but he does relax a little. Waving his hand for me to follow, he leads me upstairs, past the reading room, the kitchen, into my bedroom. Asra pulls down the scarf Muriel told me about, the lavender one with gold-threaded stitching, revealing a door the size of a cabinet in the ceiling. 

“We have an attic?” I say, incredulous. 

Asra gives all four corners a firm knock, the door opens and a ladder slides out, hitting the floor barely an inch from my bed. Eagerly, I head up, flicking my wrist to light up any candles that might be in the room.

Everything is cluttered together, covered in years of dust, as if Asra shoved whatever up here in a hurry and tried to simply forget it. There’s a telescope in the corner, and I notice a shimmering spot on the wall above it. When I touch the spot, a spark leaves my fingertips, and the roof becomes like glass, allowing us to see the sky. The room is flooded with the blue and golds of a beginning sunset, soft pink clouds floating by above us. All I had to do was touch it. This place...I think it remembers me in some capacity.

I cross the room again, to a desk. Quills, runes, and small bones litter the surface, bunches of rolled up scrolls stacked neatly to the side. I unfurl one of them, and the paper begins to tear and flake off. It’s a natal chart. Commissioned work. My work.

Asra plops down on the floor, dragging a hefty looking chest in front of him. It’s full of notebooks, scrolls, letters - much better preserved than the charts on the desk, thankfully. I allow him to sort through the material, deciding what is safest for me, while I explore. I gather up the runes and bones, crystals on the shelves, the telescope. Everything in this room seems to reach out to me like a child starved for comfort, and my eyes start to burn with tears. I used to take care of these things. They were important. More vitriol aimed at Asra rises up in my throat, but I tame it. There’s too much at stake right now, and judging his neglectful grieving process will get me nowhere.

There was another thing I wanted to ask him, albeit I had hoped for us to be in slightly better spirits when I did. “Did you take notes of your own, Asra? When you were trying to figure out how to bring me back?” 

“Not...really.” He tells me in a strangled voice. “I’ve never been that type.”

I frowned. “Hm. Well, how did you figure out everything you needed?”

“Word of mouth, a little espionage...luck...So, so much luck...” His voice trails off a bit.

“Well, that’s not very helpful.” I scoff. 

Asra snaps the book he was holding shut. “Do you plan to enlighten me? What is this about?”

As far as I can tell., there’s no point in lying. “I don’t know if I can get pregnant.” 

Whatever thoughts he had about what I was doing back home and why I wanted these notes, they clearly did not measure up to the real reason. He stares blankly at me, words failing him.

“Considering how I’m able to exist at all right now, it leaves a lot for me to wonder about how human I really am.” 

Asra finally manages to take a breath. “I think you know I’m going to advise you against looking into this.”

His tone makes me bristle with anger all over again. “I think you know I’m going to do what I want.” 

He looks tired, and I wonder how many similar arguments we’ve held before. If everything we did together just felt like going around in a circle to him. 

“I want you to be happy.” He tells me, sounding defeated. “I don’t think an obsession like this will grant you happiness.”

“I am happy, Asra.” It’s hard to keep my voice gentle. “I just want answers, and you don’t have as many answers as I thought.”

The cruel honesty of my words put him in something of a daze. I place the carefully collected items from around the room into the chest and shut it. It begins to hover a few inches off the ground and follows me back down into my bedroom - Asra does not. He remains in the attic while I grab the lavender shawl, my tools, and other favorite possessions. 

When I close the door behind me, something feels...different. Did I withdraw my protection without meaning to? 

I look up, seeing Asra’s face in the window, and I know.

It’s not my connection to the shop that has been damaged.


End file.
